


Military Ball

by percyjacksonistheprince



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: F/M, Military, military ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percyjacksonistheprince/pseuds/percyjacksonistheprince
Summary: You weren't really one for military formals, but meeting someone changed that





	Military Ball

You were sitting alone in a table meant for eight, swirling your champagne in your right hand, the other drumming the table in time with the beat of the music. You sighed, looking around at everyone socialising and dancing, knowing that you were completely out of place here. Even with your fancy green dress, silver four-inch heels and matching clutch, you weren’t one with the crowd. 

You sighed, sipping your champagne, frowning at the taste. You wished you had something better, but it’s not like they had anything better. It was a military ball, some party one of the general’s threw in honour of the Academy’s 100th anniversary. It was a big deal, but you had no plans on coming. If it wasn’t for your party-deprived comrades, you would be in your bunk reading a book. People didn’t know you for your skill in combat or for your skill with a gun, they knew you for your skill at strategising. Every time there was training that involved mock-invading another camp, they turned to you for the strategy. You were good at giving orders and telling your comrades what to do, but actually socialising beyond that and having normal human interaction was beyond you. 

You were a teacher there, given that you graduated a while back, and you now teach strategy to the aspiring soldiers. But again, actual, normal human interaction, was completely beyond you. 

Well, you had a couple of friends, but just a few close ones. You weren’t a socialite anyway. 

Which brings you here, where your couple of friends dragged you to the ball. They didn’t give you a choice because they ambushed you on the day and tossed you a dress that you actually liked. You made the mistake of offering them payment and they demanded you go to the ball. 

So there you were, sitting at the table, giving your friends a smile every time they looked at you while they were dancing, feigning that you were enjoying your time at a place with no air conditioning, loud music and B-quality champagne. 

You were just trying to figure out how to escape when a man approached you. You looked up, eyeing him warily, taking note of the way he stood, the ramrod straight back and the proud stance. You took note of the all-black tuxedo he wore, how it framed his body, accentuating the broad shoulders, the muscled chest and torso. You looked at his face, his hair cut in the standard military buzz cut and his face, though handsome, was marred with scars, some of them looked like they were from knife fights. He looked to be your age, or maybe older, but definitely not younger. You felt like you had made a good profile on him, but when you looked at his eyes, they seemed to change colour in the light, flickering like fire. 

In a moment, you figured that he was some sort of hot-shot captain, cockily asserting himself over quiet people like you… but also someone who was experienced, but also possibly someone who was just a bit too cocky and got into more knife fights than what is proper. 

You raised a brow in challenge, not really caring if you were flagged for insubordination. You were a major after all, screw it if they cared. Plus, you were all off duty. 

The man chuckled, not taking your glare and eyebrow raise as a signal to leave. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

You put the champagne on the table, a bit harder than you intended to, annoyed that someone would thwart your plans to sneak out. “What is it to you?” You replied curtly.

He raised an eyebrow and gave you an infuriatingly white smile. “When I heard you got spunk, I wasn’t expecting a sharp tongue.” 

You crossed your arms. “And what exactly did you hear about me?” 

“Major [Y/N], graduated top of her class few years back, now teaches in the Academy, and is a brilliant strategist, sought after by many whenever there is training or an actual crisis.” He bowed his head a bit. “And apparently, not one for social functions.”

You fought down the blush making it’s way to your cheeks and crossed your arms tighter. “Yes, and?” 

“It’s clear you don’t belong here.” 

You glared at him and stood up indignantly, grabbing your clutch and nearly knocking over the champagne glass. “Well, thank you for reminding me-“ 

He blocked the way you were going to use to escape. “What I mean is,” He chuckled again, putting his right hand up in surrender. “I mean that with the way you look around the room, your eyes zipping around as if looking for the fastest way out in case of an emergency, the calculating gaze you level on each person you see, you weren’t meant to sit in your chair.” 

You paused, suddenly interested. “Go on.” 

“You studied me the moment I approached you.” He kept one arm behind his back, gesturing to himself with the right. “Give me your assessment.” 

You raised a brow. “And if I’m right?”

He smiled at you. “I don’t recall making a bet.” 

You swallowed, not expecting the tide to be turned on you. “If I’m right, you’ll let me leave out of one of the quickest exits I just marked.” You said, raising your chin slightly.

“And if you’re wrong,” he continued your sentiment, “you’ll stay and dance with me.” He smiled at the end of it, sort of confident that he would win. 

You scowled at that, though your heart raced at the prospect. “No.” 

“Do you have anything better to do besides sit in your bunk and read a book?”

Your cheeks heated at the comment, pushing down the urge to curse him. “I’m rarely wrong.” You said. 

He smirked. “Then you have nothing to worry about.” He gestured to himself again. “Come on, give me your assessment.” 

You gave him another once-over before you took a breath and spoke. “You train a lot, the muscles under your tuxedo a testament to that.” He smiled wider at the comment. You continued ignoring it, “Scars on your face, knife fights probably, that would mean you’re experienced in close combat, either in bars or in the field.” 

“Would it be bars or field?” He asked, cocking his head. 

“Both.” You crossed your arms. “The scent of alcohol and cigarettes gives it away.” You paused again. “You’re about my age, maybe a couple of years older, probably same rank.” You felt like you could be wrong, but you haven’t heard of anyone (except for the very few) who were higher than Major and in your age range.

“You’re also used to having your way, a victor in battle usually, but you’ve seen war and you don’t like it, you only like the thrill of it. Your proud stance and raised chin shows that.” You narrowed your eyes. “Dangerous and cunning, I can see it in your eyes.” You smirked a little. “You did give me a once-over as well.” You put your hands on your hips. “Now can I leave?’

The man laughed, his laugh deep and sonorous, an actual good laugh to listen to. It was so infectious, you felt your lips quirking upwards. 

“No.” The man smirked. “You made a mistake.” 

“Impossible.” 

“My rank.” He brought out his left hand and you stilled at the hat he held. He put it on his head, the gold leaves and design only for-

“Allow me to introduce myself,” He bowed his head again and gave you an irritatingly handsome smile. “General Mars.” 

General Mars, you’ve heard of him, but only in gossip and heresay. You get news that he’s at the Academy or conducting a meeting, but you never actually got to see him in person. You’re a fool for not recognising him from the few pictures you’ve seen. 

Some tell you that he rose in rank so fast that he was the youngest general out there, some say that he had seen more battle than that which is suitable for a single lifetime. He’s a legend at the Academy, the headmaster seeing his potential immediately.

You fought the urge to stand up straight.

“You look like you don’t believe me.” He said and put the cap on his head, still smiling at your forced neutral expression. 

You shook your head, bewildered. “I-“

He held up a hand. “If you’re going to apologise, don’t bother.” He held out the hand. “You made a bet with me.” He smiled, that starting to slowly win you over. “Let me make you believe I’m who I say I am. We can talk it while we dance.” 

The music changed to something slow, your heartbeat fluttering. You took his hand, feeling the calluses and the rough skin. You allowed him to take you to the dance floor, the people somehow clearing a path for the two of you, the hat probably making the people part. 

He held your waist with surprising gentleness as he lead you in a slow dance. He chuckled. “Well, where do I begin?”

“You can start,” You looked up at him, meeting his fiery eyes, “with how you did so damn well in the Academy.” 

He laughed again, and you paid attention to how deep and smooth his voice flowed, making it impossible to not believe whatever he was saying.

The two of you danced and talked, the conversation easy and free-flowing, the general charming and not at all like the others that found you odd or weak because you’re a woman. The two of you talked strategy, talked about experiences at the Academy and your life outside of duty. You found yourself paying attention to every word, and him not taking his eyes off of you. 

At the end of it, you couldn’t help but take him up on his offer to drive you back to your house, of course after promising that he had no intentions of taking the night further. The two of you continued to talk on the way back to your house, it being on the grounds of HQ. He pointed to where he stayed, surprisingly not far from your own residence. 

He turned off the car once he stopped in front of your place. 

You got out of the car on your own, glad that he didn’t bother opening the door for you, though he did walk you to the door. 

“Listen…” He paused just as you put your hand on the doorknob. “Uh…” Gone was the confident general you danced with, replaced by someone more bashful. “Thank you, for dancing.” 

You smiled. “Thank you for entertaining me.” 

He smiled back at you. “Maybe I can take you out sometime.” He said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Something not so fancy.” 

You turned to face him, taking a few steps closer to him. “I’d like that. You still have a lot of stories to tell.” 

He laughed softly. “Indeed I do.” 

And before you could lose your courage, you kissed him on his cheek softly. He gasped a little at that. “Goodnight.” You said as you turned around and went inside your house. 

“Goodnight.” He answered softly, staring at your door for a moment before turning back around to get into his car. 

Inside the house, you were leaning against the door, your heart pounding like some teenage girl. 

It has been a while since someone made you feel that way, and it was the exact reason why you were humming to yourself as you got ready for bed. 

—

Mars sat in his disguised war chariot, his own heart pounding as if he was some godling, or as if he hadn’t romanced hundreds of mortal women over the ages. 

Though, it’s been a while since one of them made him feel that way.

Mars Ultor smiled to himself as he drove himself back to his home in the sky.


End file.
